[ He tugs him in, and Silco allows it, lets him pull him close, and he fits just so against him. Should it feel as good as it does? It doesn't feel like it's something permitted, but even so... it feels right, like all the pieces have been lined up. They fit so neatly, just so.

It's so dangerous, he is dangerous — but so is Silco. They hold the pieces to damn each other if they chose to, but they were not bargaining chips for domination, exchanged for a hold over one another. They were shared for a different purpose, that understanding they used as a shorthand for whatever else they were doing. A word that didn't quite mean what they said it meant.

He doesn't want to pull away these days, excuse it. He wants to keep it secret, like a dragon with its hoard, he covets it greedily, even though he has it all to himself. Has him. His lips curl, against his, a little shark's smile, as if he's about to impart a little secret. ]

Oh, I can't say I know any of those steps they have topside... [ He wasn't invited to those parties. He would never go if he was. ]

But we had our own in the fissures. I didn't make it a habit, of course...but I'm familiar.

[ But even he got drug out from time to time, and away from all that work he had already been throwing himself into. ]